


The Mourning Elves

by Kikiolana



Category: Oathbreaker - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/F, Spoilers, This would be my first posted fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikiolana/pseuds/Kikiolana
Summary: A month after the events of S1, Alwenn is still dealing with the fallout.
Relationships: Alwenn/Thyia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	The Mourning Elves

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Keli for helping me draft and edit the first Oathbreaker fanfic! Hope you all enjoy feels.

* * *

Alwenn knew she was a goner the first moment she laid eyes on Thyia, seeing her on the battlegrounds in Westerford.

Her wicked smile.

Her brilliant mind.

Aveus’s words had fallen on deaf ears as her eyes followed Thyia, who walked through the encampment as if she owned the place, her laughter ringing in the open air.

 _The General._ The one meant to lead them out of the war King Logan dragged them into.

As if she had sensed it, Thyia turned to look over her shoulder. She pinned Alwenn with amethyst eyes, rose a brow, and smirked.

Alwenn hadn’t known what to make of it. A challenge. A dare. A promise. _Something_.

Weeks later, after Alwenn finished tending to the wounded, she slouched on one of the wooden benches outside of the makeshift infirmary, head in her hands.

“Mind if I join you?”

Alwenn looked up to see Thyia standing a few feet away, a glass bottle in hand.

“Of course,” Alwenn said with a soft smile, scooting over to make room. Thyia leaned back, letting out a deep breath as she took a swig from the bottle. Alwenn’s ears perked up. “Lemongrass cider?” she asked, nose twitching at the smell.

“Not a fan?”

“It’s the only way to get through family dinners.”

Thyia let out a chuckle, offering her the bottle. “I hope your tolerance for booze is as high as your tolerance for blood.”

Alwenn shrugged, savoring the burn of the alcohol down her throat. “I can drink you under the table, General.”

“Oh? I’ll take you up on that challenge one day, _Mage_.”

They finished the bottle in a matter of minutes, each of them watching the chaotic camp finally settle for the night.

“I have some duties to finish up,” Alwenn told Thyia, rising from her seat, even though she wished she could stay just a bit longer.

“After what they just served for dinner, we all will by midnight.”

“That was awful,” Alwenn replied.

Thyia only shrugged. “Not as awful as that meat pie.”

Alwenn only shook her head, making her way back to the medic tent.

“Goodnight, Alwenn,” Thyia murmured, a small smile across her face.

The same smile she had the audacity to give Alwenn, feet away from the edge of the cliff, arms open wide not in greeting, but in goodbye.

_“Better off without me,” Thyia whispered._

*

Those were always the last words Alwenn heard before waking up screaming, alone, in Rimeford’s magistracy tower. On a few occasions, Argandea and Lea had burst in, weapons drawn before realizing she was alone. The former took it upon himself to bring her a breakfast of honey drizzled toast every morning, before he headed off to the training grounds. The latter took to sitting next to her during dinner, even as the evening dragged into the early morning hours. Even when Alwenn refused to say more than two words.

  
On nights like those Alwenn found herself wandering through the quiet halls of the castle, out into the outer yard to a too familiar sight of a gray headstone.

“You think Walinad’s Court Mage would understand the need for beauty rest.”

Alwenn said nothing, her upper lip curling up at the sound of Virion’s voice.

“Honestly, you don’t have to be a warlock to sense the darkness rolling off you.”

“And you don’t have to be a scholar to know when to keep your comments to yourself.”

Her ears twitched at the sound of the crunching grass.

“Do you really think going down the path of the Divine who drove her to that hysteria is the right thing to do?” Virion questioned. “Oh, don’t give me that look. Eldrin told me. Your questions turned to practice.”

“And you care what I do?”

Virion shrugged. “Not particularly. And with you being more of a frigid prig than usual, I couldn’t care less.”

“Then leave,” Alwenn snapped, turning to look over her shoulder to where Virion stood in the shadows of the pine trees, covered in the season’s first snowfall.

Virion tilted his head to the side examining his nails. “What happens if I don’t?”

“You’ll see just how much I learned. I thought you would’ve learned to think your choices through by now.”

Virion narrowed his eyes at her. “What would the Magistracy say, learning that their beloved Court Mage has been dabbling in dark magic?”

Alwenn stood, whirling around to face him. “They just might thank me for killing the Warlock who caused this disaster in the first place.”

He took a step forward, his headache-inducing smirk growing wider.

“At least I knew Calywen’s true feelings before his end. A General of all people, falling for a subpar mage like you? As if she could’ve been happy spending a life with you.”

The winter air choked her, froze her in place.

Thyia never needed her. Thyia would’ve thrived without her. It would’ve been better, Alwenn thought, if she had been the one to step off that ledge instead.

_“Don’t misunderstand, please. I do not wish to use Xiris’s darkness in any of my magic…”_

The words Alwenn had spoken at the banquet nearly a month ago, spoken countless times before, haunted her. Perhaps if she had delved into that rage and chaos, Thyia would be here, even if Alwenn wasn’t.

His low laugh pricked her skin. “You’re already responsible for killing one Warlock, what’s one more?”

His words had her stumbling back.

“When I think about it, perhaps it wasn’t Xiris that drove her into hysteria. Has it crossed your mind that _you_ may have been the one that pushed her to the edge of that cliff?”

A crack thundered through her. The trees behind her burst to splinters. Alwenn lunged towards him, letting out an anguished cry. This was something she should’ve done long ago. So many chances to rid Aradove of the love-sick Warlock that had brought Xiris’s wrath upon them all once more. Whispers danced at the edge of Alwenn’s mind.

Her raised fist lit up in burning blue flames.

Ready to release the weeks of pent up despair.

Ready to add a matching scar across the other side of his face.

Ready to _end_ him.

Alwenn took one look at him. His drooping ears. The dark circles under his eyes. The acceptance on his face as he braced himself for blow, one he wouldn’t even try to avoid.

“Getting cold feet, Court Mage? I won’t seek revenge, I promise.”

His smile cut her heart. Just as Thyia’s had. But his curved lips weren’t of arrogance or sadness… it was guilt, she realized, her fist stopping mere centimeters from his face, the blue wisps of flame flickering out. She watched his ears fall back.

“I thought you enjoyed fighting me,” Virion taunted.

Alwenn pulled herself back. “I enjoy fighting someone who puts in effort, not someone dragging himself around like a corpse because they’re guilt-ridden.” Alwenn’s arms fell to her sides. “Killing you would be just like killing her all over again.”

Responsible for pushing Thyia to that edge... The tears spilled over Alwenn’s cheeks. If she had just ignored her feelings… If she had just smothered them down and urged Thyia towards Virion, a Warlock, a similar soul with a similar surge, like a good best friend… Thyia could still be standing here, continuing to wreak her havoc.

Thyia never needed her.

Alwenn let out a sob, a hand covering her mouth, the other wrapping around her stomach.

“I loved her,” Alwenn murmured, voice cracking. “ I _loved_ her.”

“I know.”

“She loved you too.” And it hurt to admit.

“She loved all of us. None more than you.”

“And now she is gone.” Alwenn fell to her knees, feet away from the taunting headstone. “She is _gone_. And I am left with my useless life!”

Alwenn didn’t know when Virion had taken a seat next to her, didn’t care. Her tears had soaked through the green scarf she had pulled up around her face.

“I don’t know who I am without her,’ she whispered.

The silence stretched between them, even the wind ceased its howling.

“You’re the same Elven log you were before. Stronger and smarter than she gives herself credit for.”

“I’m waking up any minute now, aren’t I? A compliment?” Alwenn wiped at her nose. Turning to the other elf.

“Don’t get used to it, Mage.”

Alwenn was ready to retort, but held back. “You cut your hair.”

“Now I’m dreaming. Who knew you paid attention?” Virion’s words were lightly-said, but he turned away, looking towards the grave, towards those beyond.

“You’re allowed to hurt, Virion. But don’t think yourself responsible for the actions of another.”

He turned towards her. “Make sure to tell yourself that too.” After a moment, he added. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I know,” Alwenn replied. The silence returned, but this time it wasn’t brittle like the thin branches on the trees. It covered them like a warm embrace. They sat there, legs crossed, even as the sun began to rise over the mountaintops.

“This doesn’t mean we’re becoming friends, right?” Virion asked, glancing towards her.

Alwenn rolled her eyes. “As if I’d ever be friends with a depraved harlot like you.”

“Repellent hag,” Virion scoffed, tossing her a soft smile.

And Alwenn replied, a faint curling up of her lips. “Insolent prick.”

* * *


End file.
